


The Cards That Might Have Fallen

by letmetellyouaboutmyfeels



Category: Red Widow (TV)
Genre: Back At It Again With The Smut For a Crappy TV Show, Enjoy my shame, F/M, Just Had to Get It Out of My System, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pure Smut, Roleplay, Wall Sex, We're All Good Now, last one i swear
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-02-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:28:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22764760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels/pseuds/letmetellyouaboutmyfeels
Summary: Given that their relationship was originally built on playing each other, it's no surprise their first time together is extending the game.
Relationships: Nicholae Schiller/Marta Walraven
Comments: 10
Kudos: 8





	The Cards That Might Have Fallen

Marta tucked her legs up under her as she sat on the couch. “That went well.”

Nicholae didn’t roll his eyes at her, because Nicholae Schiller didn’t roll his eyes in general. But she could feel him doing it, internally.

“It went as well as could be expected.”

“Nicholae. You slept with the man’s wife.”

In the two weeks since taking down her father, they’d had to act quickly. The Duchenkos were going to be after them sooner rather than later, or so they assumed. Schiller was now in control of not only his own territory but also the former Petrov territory (and boy, had that been fun to hear about, learning that Nicholae had offered her father a deal for her safety and freedom and her father had turned it down—), and she had her children to think about, her sister, fuck, all of it.

They had to plan. They had to be ready. And that meant making deals, establishing alliances, building up shields, so to speak. But they couldn’t do that if Nicholae’s reputation was going to catch up with them.

Passing her a drink—he always had the best whiskey on hand—Nicholae gave her an assessing look over the rim of his own glass, leaning back against his desk. They were still in their fancy outfits from the party, and she hated how good he looked in his suit.

“Contrary to the tone Natasha had when she told you about my… previous exploits, I don’t generally make a habit of helping women cheat on their spouses. It was only twice. And the wife he was so very upset about he divorced three years ago. He’s currently married to a girl barely older than Natalie.” Nicholae shrugged. “I didn’t think it would be an issue anymore.”

Marta watched as he downed his drink.

“Why did you do it?”

Yes, perhaps to those who didn’t know him well, Nicholae Schiller sleeping with a married woman wasn’t anything surprising. The man took what he wanted. But she knew him better, and she knew that he was a man who never took a risk that wasn’t calculated. Why risk a business deal? The sex couldn’t possibly have been _that_ good.

Nicholae considered, setting his glass down. “The first time I was much younger. Reckless. I didn’t like the man, and I wanted to prove that I could have anything I wanted, and that included his wife. The second time… I saw she was unhappy. I had just been screwed over on a deal with her husband. I figured, give her a good night, show her all the things her husband wasn’t doing for her, make her happy, and it sent a message at the same time. Don’t fuck me, or I’ll fuck you.”

“And then you figured there were better ways to do that, rather than literally?”

“Something like that.” Nicholae got an odd sort of smile on his face. He’d been looking like that more and more lately, looking at _her_ like that, and she didn’t know what to make of it—or of the hot twist between her legs when he did it.

“What.”

“Nothing. Only that—if I’d met your husband ten years earlier, I would’ve tried to do the same with you.”

“You disliked him that much?”

“No. I like you that much.”

And there it was. That unnamable thing they’d been dancing around for weeks, possibly since the beginning, and he was at last calling it out. It made him braver than she was.

Something reckless seized her and she stood, downing her own drink. “How would you have done it?”

Nicholae blinked at her, and then a slow, warm, pleased smile spread across his face. She knew this smile—it was the smile he got when a deal was going his way. “Careful, Marta. Don’t start a game you aren’t willing to finish.”

“We started this game long ago,” she pointed out. “Or are you not willing to play?”

He never could resist a challenge. She’d noticed that. Even when he pretended not to play into the person’s dare, he found a way to prove them wrong and get on top anyway.

Nicholae regarded her for a moment, and she remembered the night Natasha had told her that being married didn’t matter to Nicholae Schiller. He’d drawn his finger in smooth, tantalizing little circles on her shoulder. He’d barely touched her, but each one of those touches had been calculated and confident.

And she never would have admitted it out loud, but she’d liked it.

“I’m not the sort of man who settles for one taste and is satisfied,” he pointed out.

“I’m aware.” If they were going to cross the line, he’d want it to stay crossed. A Rubicon. And she was fine with that. She had a feeling he’d keep her wanting more.

“And you’re sure?”

“I’m asking you to seduce me and you’re asking me if I’m sure?”

“Whatever… feelings I might have developed aside,” Nicholae pointed out, “you’re currently my business partner. And possibly the only person in this entire mess that I can trust. I’m not going to risk ruining that.”

That, coming from Nicholae Schiller, was the equivalent of a dozen roses and a sonnet from anyone else. “I’m sure.”

Their lives were so entangled by now in every other way, and after the revelation of how her father had behaved… it felt like Nicholae was the only person who truly respected her, who truly knew her. The only person who saw what she _could_ be and demanded the best from her because he knew all that she was capable of becoming. Even when she hadn’t seen it in herself, even when she’d been scared of it, he had seen it, and he hadn’t been scared at all. He’d been elated with her.

And he protected her. And her family. He kept them safe. Neither her father, nor the FBI, or even her husband, had been able to do that.

“Well.” He crossed over to her and took the glass from her hand. “If we were at a party, like Natasha’s, and I saw you… you would’ve been bored.”

She snorted. “And on edge.”

“The perfect combination.” He walked over to the drink cupboard and refilled her glass. “I would’ve asked around discreetly. Found out who you were, why you were here. Watched you. Let you see me watching you.”

She could imagine it perfectly. Standing at the bar, not drinking, trying to look relaxed and instead just wishing she could go home. Noticing the handsome man in the corner, watching her. Feeling like a rabbit pinned under the gaze of a hawk. Unable to stop herself from glancing back time and again, even though she knew it was wrong, knowing that men who looked like _that_ didn’t mean anything except bad news…

Nicholae walked over to her, glass in hand. “Eventually I’d bring you a drink. Always good to approach a beautiful woman with gifts.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you gifting me anything.”

“Oh, of course, that necklace I gave you was terribly gauche.”

Marta had to hold in a snort of laughter. Nicholae sat down next to her and held up the drink, and something in him shifted, almost like he was sharpening, his jaw solidifying. His gaze darkening. “You look like you could use this.”

Ah. They were really playing now. And Marta had no intention of making this easy for him. “My mother always told me not to accept drinks from strange men.”

“Your mother sounds terribly boring.” He shook the glass a little. “And maybe that’s what you want, to keep standing here being bored out of your mind…”

She took the drink, only in the hope that it would shut him up. Not that she currently wanted him to shut up, but back then, that’s what she would’ve wanted. She didn’t take a sip. “You don’t know what I’m thinking.”

“Oh, you sure? Let me guess. If I guess wrong, I’ll go.” He turned, putting them almost but not quite shoulder to shoulder, bracing himself against the back of the sofa. “You know what’s going on here better than your husband does. Or your brother. You think you should be the one making the deals, not them. But you’re here to be supportive and to look pretty, and so that’s what you’re trying to do, even though you’d much rather be at home than standing here surrounded by people you distrust and dislike.” He glanced over at her, raising his eyebrows. “Am I close?”

She pressed her lips together.

Nicholae smiled. “That’s what I thought. It’s frustrating, not to be appreciated. Not to let the tiger out of the cage.” His arm shifted, and she realized that it was now around the back of the sofa, almost but not quite touching her shoulders. “Foolish of them.”

“You haven’t even heard what my ideas would be compared to theirs.”

“Then enlighten me.” His gaze was challenging.

Marta swallowed, trying to make up a deal on the spot. “Irwin’s letting you take too much control. That tells you he’s a pushover, and nobody likes a pushover. It means that any moment someone else could come along and dazzle him, take him away from you. You want someone who can really think. If it were me, I wouldn’t let you use your men on our marina. Our family has to do the running. The marina workers know us, they trust us. Strangers would be noticed. Those would be my terms. You want our boats, we run them.”

Nicholae inclined his head. “A clever woman indeed. A pity they don’t see that. Tell me…” He turned again, now facing her, their knees almost brushing, his hand dangerously close to her thigh. “…what else aren’t they seeing?”

She took a deep gulp of her drink, savoring the burn. She suddenly needed it.

“Because in my experience…” Nicholae’s voice was softer now. “…if a man can’t appreciate how smart his wife is, he can’t appreciate a lot of other things about her, either.”

She opened her mouth to say something, and then realized she had no words. Nicholae could undoubtedly see the flush creeping up her face and pressed his advantage.

“Let me guess—and again, if I guess wrong, I’ll go.” He took the now-empty glass from her hand and set it aside, then leaned in. “He never touches you like this.”

His hand came up and gently wound a lock of her hair around his finger, then tucked it behind her ear, his fingertip trailing down the curve of her jaw as he drew his hand away. Her breath caught in her throat as his hand moved down, landing softly on her knee, his thumb dragging in slow circles.

“He’s rough, greedy.” Nicholae sounded incredibly disappointed, as if this was an affront to men everywhere. “He doesn’t take his time with you, not anymore.”

None of this had been true of her real husband. Evan had been a stupid man in many ways but he had loved her, she could not deny that. He had been a good husband, if not a good businessman. He’d screwed her over by stealing from Nicholae, but that hadn’t been Evan’s intention. All he’d wanted to do was provide.

But they were playing a game. Dealing in hypotheticals. And in this world, she had a husband who just grabbed her breasts and fucked her roughly, without consideration, and considered it passion. A husband who thought of her as a trophy, the daughter of Andrei Petrov as his bride.

If she’d actually been married to a man like that, having Nicholae Schiller in front of her with his dark hair and snake charmer eyes and purring voice would’ve been… admittedly irresistible.

His gaze dropped down her body, and she could feel it like a physical touch. “You deserve much more than that.”

“Aren’t you afraid someone will see?” she pointed out. They were, after all, supposedly surrounded by people.

Nicholae inclined his head, acknowledging her point. His hand didn’t leave her knee. “Perhaps you will allow me to get your coat, then?”

She understood what she’d allowed, then, and what he was saying in response. She hadn’t said she wanted him to stop. She’d only expressed worry about others around them. He was now offering her a chance for privacy.

The fingers of his other hand drew along her shoulder as he pulled his arm back from the couch, then slid along her neck. Heat pulsed between her legs. “Beautiful necklace,” he murmured.

Well, he should know, he gave it to her. He’d been gifting her quite a lot of things lately. Marta would’ve dared to say he was courting her, if either of them had ever acknowledged it. “Thank you.”

He played with the jewel that hung in the middle, his fingers dangerously close to the swell of her breasts. “Magnificent,” he said, and she knew he wasn’t really talking about the necklace, his gaze firmly on her chest.

Nicholae’s gaze flicked up to meet hers, his eyes twinkling with mirth. Marta could feel herself getting steadily slicker, and soon she’d have to get her damn underwear off or risk ruining it. “Please help me get my coat.”

He stood at once, offering her his arm. As she took it he jerked her, causing her to stumble. It was subtle enough that it looked like it was her fault she was off-balance, but she’d felt him move her. His arm came around her waist, holding her, steadying her. “Careful.”

Before she could gather herself he pulled back, but kept his arm out, allowing her to hold onto it as he led her across the room, into the hallway that she knew led into his bedroom (not that she’d ever seen it)—

Nicholae turned, pinning her to the wall, his face only an inch or two from hers.

“Nobody to see now,” he pointed out.

 _Get off me,_ she could have said, and she knew he would have. He listened to her. And he was many things, but the kind of man who forced himself on a woman was not one of them. She didn’t fear that.

But she didn’t want him to step away. She wanted him to touch her more. “My husband’s done this part. It’s not particularly special.”

“Oh, has he?” Nicholae took her wrists and drew them up over her head, neatly tucking both of them into the curve of his palm, holding her down with just one hand. His other hand slid down, then up her thigh, between her legs. “Has he done this? Hmm?”

He stroked her through her underwear and she whimpered, trying to keep quiet the way she’d have to if this was real, if there were people just outside of the coat room. Nicholae continued to stroke her. “Has he touched you like this? Just for the pleasure of watching you fall apart? Made you desperate for him, brought you to ecstasy?”

“N-no,” she choked out, and Nicholae growled, shoving her underwear aside and plunging his fingers into her. Marta struggled to swallow down her cry and Nicholae snarled, kissing her.

She melted into it, his fingers still moving inside of her, his hand firm but not painful around her wrists, his tongue stroking her in time with his thrusts. Nicholae Schiller was a determined man, a man who got what he wanted, and it didn’t surprise her that he’d gotten both those women. It didn’t surprise her that he’d gotten her, too.

But it was an extra thrill knowing that he also seemed to want to keep her.

He kept kissing her even as she came, coating his fingers and her own thighs (definitely ruining her underwear), making an obscene noise into his mouth. Her whole body was shaking, on fire, and if he hadn’t been holding her up, she was sure she would’ve just crumpled to the floor.

Nicholae pulled his hand back out, then she heard him undoing his belt. Marta arched up, wishing she could touch him but also feeling a thrill that she couldn’t. “You going to show me what I’ve been missing out on?”

“Haven’t I done that already?” he pointed out.

“I’m sure those women were annoyed you only gave them one night.”

“That’s the most roundabout way I think I’ve ever been complimented.” Nicholae gently nudged her thighs apart, then paused, as if considering.

Then he let go of her wrists, and lifted her thigh up instead, wrapping it around his waist. Marta grabbed onto him immediately as she was lifted up, her one foot barely still on the floor, on her toes, as he slid into her.

She swore violently and Nicholae clamped a hand over her mouth. There was a teasing smile on his face. Ah, yes, theoretically they couldn't let anybody hear them, even though they were literally in an empty penthouse.

Nicholae leaned in, sliding into her even more, and she moaned, the sound muffled by his hand. “You good?”

She nodded.

“You might want to hold on.”

Oh, _fuck_.

She ended up lifting her other leg and wrapping it around, locking her ankles together, and Nicholae didn’t even slow down in his rhythm. She’d known he was strong (he had beaten a man half to death on their second meeting, of course he was strong) but she hadn’t quite done the math when it came to all that strength being applied to this. It was a good thing he was still wearing his suit because otherwise her nails would have scratched his shoulders and neck up but good. They kept kissing, savage and frantic, and it was so, so easy to imagine that this really was what they were playing at, that they were breaking all the rules and fucking in a goddamn coat closet, that he was showing her the proper way to be fucked.

Marta almost wanted his hand back on her mouth again, muffling her, gagging her, but he needed both his hands on her thighs now to keep her upright. His tongue was just as good at keeping her quiet, though, as his hips snapped into her over and over, his cock thick and making her feel split wide, making her feel owned and claimed—

Nicholae shifted his angle and she bit down on his lip, a scream strangled in the back of her throat. She could feel him smile against her lips as he persisted, kept at it, and she felt his thrusts get shallow and erratic, knew he was about to come, and that tipped her right over.

To her surprise, instead of setting her down, he pushed her farther up, high enough that he could kiss slowly along the swell of her breasts, in between them, up along the line of her necklace (setting his teeth to it and tugging gently at one point), up her neck, guiding her back down, down, down, until her feet were on the floor and they were kissing properly again.

“I can see why you were so successful,” she murmured. Nicholae’s hands were on her hips, his body firm and warm against hers. Mmm. Next time, she was getting both of them naked for this.

“Oh, good, I’d hate to disappoint.” He paused. “Rather glad that wasn’t how it worked out, though.”

“Oh?”

“I’d hate to have started a territory war because I stole you from the Petrov clan,” Nicholae pointed out.

It was the closest thing to an admission as she’d probably ever get, but that didn’t matter. In their world, emotions were deadly. And she knew what he was really saying.

Marta let her eyes slide closed and kissed him again.


End file.
